(500) Days of AkuRoku
by Theresalwaysacatch
Summary: "If he had known that that day and its bus ride back from work would've marked his first encounter with Axel, Roxas would've walked all eleven-and-a-half miles home. Unfortunately, he didn't." Multichapter AU. Short chapters and frequent updates. AkuRoku, as the name implies ;)
1. Day 1

**A/N**: Just what it sounds like. Should all be one, continuous story, and quite a good challenge. I'll try to upload at least every other day. That's all for now. Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely characters! The creators of Kingdom Hearts do.

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(500) Days of AkuRoku

If he had known that _that day_, and its bus ride back from work (and from yet another shift of shitty tips and pissy customers) would've marked his first encounter with Axel, Roxas would've walked all eleven-and-a-half miles home. Unfortunately, he didn't, and just seconds after the bus screeched to a halt at his Berkeley Street stop and flung open its doors, he found himself in the only open seat, next to a maniacal, grinning redhead. This man, Roxas thought, probably needed to be institutionalized. Admittedly, that was before he got to know Axel, and before he learned that said psychopath _definitely_ needed to be institutionalized. But even then, the crooked grin plastered on the guy's face, the clown colored-hair, and the slapdash outfit (that somehow managed to include three different, moth-eaten t-shirts, one pair of dilapidated, vomit-pink shoes, and a crocheted, baby blue scarf that just looked way too uncomfortable and warm to be wearing on a summer day) gave him away. Roxas could've opted to stand and cling to one of the poles in the aisles, but he felt that that would be rude when a seat was so obviously free, and he was not a rude person (at least not openly).

Still, he rushed to pop in his earbuds before the creep could say anything to him, and, to his relief, music started playing before the stranger could try and make awkward conversation. He leaned his head back against the cheap, blue and red cushions and tried not to think of the myriad germs that such a..._public_ vehicle probably housed. (It did, after all, carry that trademark faint scent of piss and rum that you could find on almost any city transportation.) Instead of focusing on that, he closed his eyes and let the music carry him off.

Halfway into "Caring Is Creepy," he felt something bump against his shoulder. He figured the bus had just come to a hard stop and decided, politely, to say nothing. Five seconds later something pressed up against his shoulder again. Still, Roxas remained resolute. He kept his eyes closed and started humming along to The Shins, just so the psycho next to him would at least know he was awake, and therefore aware of any unwanted touching. It seemed to work, until about a minute later, when something heavy, and furry, flopped onto his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and he saw—to his abject horror—that his freakazoid bus buddy had decided to take a nap on him.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The psycho tensed and sprung up. "Whu? Oh. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

Roxas blushed, suddenly feeling like a gigantic asshole. "No, uh. I'm sorry I yelled. It's alright, really."

The redhead brightened up. "Really, Blondie? Good to know; you make a great pillow." After which he promptly flopped his head onto Roxas' shoulder. Again.

"Whu? What the hell? Get off, you freak!"

He snapped up again, his brows knitting. "What's wrong? Change of heart?"

"What are you talking about?" Roxas seethed.

"You just said 'it's alright, really.' Then you totally freaked out when I lied down." He paused, eyeing Roxas suspiciously. "You're not bipolar, are you?"

"What the hell-"

The redhead sniggered. "Don't you know how to say anything else?"

"What the? I-you. What is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with _me_? I'm not the one sending mixed messages, here. One second you're all 'let's be pals' and the next thing I know you're staring at me like I'm some kinda weirdo." Before Roxas could think of a reply to that obviously flawed, obviously deranged statement, the bus pulled to a stop near his house.

"I have to go." He said, and he jumped up and sprinted off the car, red-faced and confused.

And that was how the first day went.

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**A/N**: Heh, kinda short, I know. But I'm gonna be uploading practically every day, so there's that. Leave a review if you please, and have a great weekend.


	2. Day 2

**A/N**: (500) Days of AkuRoku, also known as Get Some, Axel. Lol jk. I'm tired right now and it's not even midnight. Isn't that sad? FYI: Each day number only corresponds to the days Axel and Roxas see each other. So Day 1 and Day 2 could be a week apart.

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(2)

Arbissburg may have been a crowded, dirty, little shit of a place, but at least it had good music. Yep. Aside from all the setbacks any urban environment dealt with—widespread theft, carjackings, and the like, crazies at every street corner, douchey businessmen pushing you out of the way, douchey hipsters getting in your way, that general smell of urine in the air, the uncomfortable transportation routes—well, you get the idea...Aside from those things it had real music to offer, jazz in the night clubs and soloists on the street playing for pittance wages. It also had great record stores for the people who could afford music (or anything for that matter) in Arbissburg. Roxas was not one of those people, so while loaded metrosexual socialites poured into and out of Bailey's Records with vinyls under their arms, Roxas stared at them greedily.

He spent most of his time browsing the shop, wandering aimlessly through the aisles and soaking up the vintage feel of the place. If his parents hadn't told him he was born in some Podunk town called Twilight, and shown him the birth certificate to prove it, he would have assured them he came into the world in a small place like this. A cozy place, where the cashier wore thick-rimmed glasses and deep red velvet covered the walls...

He'd gotten through the 40s and 50s part of the shop's selection, and considered paying a hefty sum for a Big Mama Thornton 'live from prison' album, when a glimpse of a ridiculously red (albeit familiar) head of hair caught his eye. For some reason, his natural reaction was to drop to the floor and lunge for cover. Why Roxas took such extreme measures to avoid seeing the freak from the bus a second time was beyond him, way beyond him. All he knew was that at that moment, he badly wanted the carpeting to swallow him up. (This feeling quite possibly stemmed from his acute phobia of awkward encounters with strangers, or the fact that he'd screamed and cursed at that seemingly mentally unstable person. More than once, if he recalled correctly.)

Luckily, the redhead went straight to the counter to ask the cashier a question. Roxas peeked from behind his hiding spot, and, seeing an opportunity, sprinted for the door. Of course, Roxas didn't realize how bad it must've looked—him, a teenager browsing a store for hours without buying anything, then making a mad dash for the exit once the cashier was distracted. Unfortunately, the new guy at the register did realize how bad it looked, and he came running out, yelling for Roxas to stop.

Roxas wasn't exactly sure of what happened next. Something along the lines of him freezing, the cashier stalking up to him, and the anorexic redhead running out to see what the hell was going on, then stopping the cashier in his tracks. The two of them spoke for a few seconds, and after a look of relief washed over the employee's face, the bifocaled teenager nodded and walked back into the store.

At this point, of course, the psychopath had spotted Roxas, so there wasn't much Roxas could do but smile and wave awkwardly to him. The anorexic giant came running up, hawing like a madman. "Oh my God, kid. You should've seen your face." He laughed. "Hey...wait a second...don't I know you?"

"No, no you don't," Roxas mumbled, his ears burning. "Anyway, I was just leaving, so, thanks I guess, for whatever you did. But I really need to get going."

By that time, Roxas had turned to walk away. Also by that time, freakazoid in the thick blue scarf and the nausea-inducing pink shoes had recognized him. "Blondie?!" He shouted.

xxx

His name was Axel, apparently. A weird name for a weird guy, Roxas thought (though Roxas really wasn't one to talk). In the five minutes it took for them to make it to the subway, he had told Roxas his life story (which was possible only because of the speed at which he spat out words and his fascinating lack of reliance on oxygen).

Axel had, however, left out his motives for helping a total stranger who looked like he'd just stolen from a perfectly honest business.

It was only when Roxas noticed Axel staring intently at him that he realized he'd probably been asked something. That was unfortunate for him (and his fear of awkward situations), because after the first half-minute, he'd given up on trying to follow his companion's monologue. "Um...yes?" he squeaked.

Axel gave him a funny look. "You were in a record store because yes?"

"Oh!" Roxas blushed. "No, no. I just...I go there a lot. They have good stuff." Axel nodded. "...Say, um, Axel? Why did you help me out back there? You don't even know me."

Now, this conversation could've ended up like one of those sickening B-movie heart-to-hearts, where Axel spilled his tearful tale of how at one point he, too, was a teenager, who became a kleptomaniac because his parents were never around, and who now, as a reformed adult, could see the world through much better, sober eyes. Though Roxas would never admit it, this was also what he half-expected. Instead Axel shrugged and said, "Dunno. Just felt like it I guess."

And for some reason, when the redhead waved goodbye to him as the train's doors shut, Roxas couldn't help but wonder if he'd see the baby blue scarf and highlighter pink shoes again. It had been a strange day.

But sometimes strange could be good.

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**A/N**: Well, I should probably be doing homework right now. But I like to keep my word, and I did say updates at least every other day. Thanks so much to favoriters, and followers, and reviewers! I will do individual thanks at the end of the week, but at the moment I'm as scattered brained as a pigeon and I really need to get back to my zoology notes. Seriously, though, Erstine 13624, AkuRokuLover, and Roxel 23, thanks so much!

Also, readers, feel free to post a few suggestions for themes. I can't promise I'll get to all of them, but it would help me so much with the writing part of it. Until next time, auf weidersehen.

And one last thing; I apologize for errors. As you can probably tell, I'm not all here right now. Lucky for you guys, though, I'm an editing fiend. Mistakes will be corrected! By me! Eventually!


	3. Day 3

(3)

The third day came a week later, when they met unexpectedly in a coffee shop. Roxas refused to drink coffee (he thought it too unhealthy), but he consumed tea in quantities that probably put an unnecessary strain on his heart. The Blue Diner on the upper East side happened to have the best Earl Grey brew in Arbissburg, so he went there once or twice a week.

On that particular day, he caught a glimpse of a baby blue scarf and the back of a mess of fiery red hair when he walked in. For a moment and a half, he contemplated rewinding and stepping back out into the street (he really would do anything to avoid awkwardness), but before he could make up his mind Axel whirled around and spotted him.

"Hey, Blondie! This is what, the third time we've seen each other in a month? It's gotta be fate, right?"

Roxas wondered for a second if fate really had put them up to this, then he reminded himself that fate was a load of bull and life was all coincidence. "Um...hey, Axel."

xxx

While Roxas placed his order (Earl Grey with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg, no sugar please) Axel talked his ear off. When they went to sit down, Axel talked his ear off. When they were drinking—fucking _drinking_—Axel still somehow managed to talk his ear off, and Roxas worried that eventually, between sips, the maniac would choke. He shuddered at the potential discomfort and embarrassment of performing the Heimlich on someone twice his size.

When he noticed a lapse in Axel's nasally monologue he snapped back into attention.

"...Hey, Blondie-"

"Roxas," Roxas corrected.

"Right. I'm sorry if I'm talking too much; I'm just nervous is all. This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't do so hot meeting new people..."

Roxas nearly choked on his tea from the snort he just stifled. "Ehmm. Umm" Roxas cleared his throat. "No, it's alright I guess."

Axel half-smiled. "Is it alright because you genuinely don't mind or because you haven't heard a word I've said in the last ten minutes?"

Roxas blushed and took a sudden, intense interest in the contents of his teacup.

"Thought so..." Axel sighed. "Anyway, I should probs get going. See you around. Or not." And just like that he got up and went along his merry way, as if nothing had happened.

For some reason, Roxas felt like a douchebag afterwards.


	4. Day 4

**A/N:** Another shorty-short chapter...sorry guys. I've got a long one coming up but I need to figure out some key elements to it before I finish. As always, please enjoy and review!

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(4)

A week had passed since he'd seen the redhead...Roxas only knew this because, well, he had been counting. (This was only because his still felt like a douche, and didn't prefer to leave others in bad graces.)

But at this point, he had attempted to perjure himself into believing that he wouldn't recognize Axel if they passed each other on the street. True, Axel had a peculiar (scratchy, high-pitched) voice and a multitude of distinctive visual accents (namely, his characteristic pair of neon shoes, wool scarf for those chilly summer climates and flame-like head of hair that probably, quite poetically, echoed some disturbing fire fetish). Hell, anyone who knew him would have to be both deaf and blind _not_ to recognize him. Roxas was aware of these things, and consciously chose to ignore them in the interests of his own false sense of comfort (because, really, why should his panties be getting so bunched over a guy he barely knew?). Unfortunately, coincidence enjoyed shoving Roxas' face in his willful stupidity by proving him wrong as often as it could.

It happened on a Thursday. On his way to the Berkeley bus stop, Roxas spotted Axel a mile away, strutting his gangly stuff and cursing someone out (or so Roxas imagined) over the phone. The blond vacillated between sprinting to the other side of the street and diving for cover in a repeat performance of the record store fiasco. Suddenly, after sprouting a tactical bone in his rather short body, he realized it'd be best to gauge his next move _before_ he did anything. He waited and observed Axel's movements. He stared. Waited. Stared. The redhead continued gabbing angrily, strutting, glancing out into the street. At about a block away from Roxas' spot, Axel crossed to the other side of the road and vanished into the bustle of foot traffic. He hadn't noticed Roxas the entire time.

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**A/N**: Poor Roxy...Hope you guys have great weekend. Last week was a bit rough for me, which hopefully explains the small amount of updates. Again, to anyone who actually reads these author's notes, PLEASE suggest themes or motifs or anything! It's really hard coming up with a new one on a regular basis. I have so much respect for people who can do those drabble challenges.


	5. Day 5

**A/N:** Gah! So I can't believe I'm still even updating this semi-regularly. I am trying, I promise. Special thanks to mizukiryu73, Kurai Gekkou, ICanHearPokemon'sVoices, Ldrmas, melania147, NanoCode, and LovelyDemon for favs/follows :) As always, please, read, review, enjoy, AND PM OR LEAVE A REVIEW WITH THEME SUGGESTIONS! I'm having so much trouble coming up with themes; help would be greatly appreciated.

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(5)

The sticky floor (remnants, no doubt, of spilled booze and other...lovely, explicit substances that found their way there). The humid air (from the too many bodies packed into the too tight space—their sweat permeated the room, thickening every breath with the taste of brine). The incubus in the corner with the Buddha belly and the penchant for neon drinks and fake Cuban cigars (...? Not even your dear narrator can begin to explain that imagery).

Somehow, this was the atmosphere Roxas found himself in at the moment. He was terrified, to put it lightly—a lost, shivering, antisocial puppy mired in the morass of the Friday night social scene. This was not his scene, or Pence's, but for some reason, Olette and Hayner had decided it would be a brilliant idea to drag both of them to this evening bacchanalia. After delivering some sermon about the importance of healthy social interaction with mature peers, weekend unwinding at the hands of various narcotics, and (much to Olette's chagrin) big tits, Hayner segwayed into his brother's invitation to a college party that night.

"And there's no way I'm going alone," He said, throwing his fists down on the lunch table for effect and shooting Roxas that intense, cocky stare of his. Usually, Roxas would agree to do just about anything for Hayner. No, not in _that_ way. They had been friends for some time, close friends, and on top of that Hayner acted as the leader of the group. Roxas tended to follow him along blindly. Had anyone else done similarly, he would have chided such mindless truckling, but he found ways to justify and forgive his own actions.

In that particular case, Roxas' antisocial tendencies overpowered his nonconfrontational ones, and he and Pence put up a feeble fight. They had homework, they said. They had things to catch up on. They were feeling a bout of nausea coming on and they didn't want to go anywhere if they were sick. Hayner and Olette received the pitiful excuses with folded arms and knotted brows, and after a good minute or two of the sad attempt at persuasion Olette butt in to the litany with,

"Guys, you are both going to grow a pair and get your asses out of the house on Friday night, or I swear to God this new school year will be anything but enjoyable for you."

So now Roxas found himself in the corner of a sticky room, surrounded by horny college kids and various narcotics just as Hayner had described. He sipped from his plastic cup of punch—which was surprisingly quite good—and fiddled with his black-and-white wristband uncomfortably. They had just gotten there; his phone showed 11:50, but the thought of staying more than half an hour brought with it thoughts of seppuku or sati (both of which Roxas would probably find more enjoyable than his current situation). It was about that time that an intoxicated, big-boobed bombshell stumbled in his direction.

"Hey. Hey, hey-you, kid," the pink-haired girl slurred. He assumed she was talking to someone else. "You, yeah. With the blue eyes and the American Eagle getup." She made it to the wall he stood against and leaned into his personal bubble, thereby shattering all doubts. "How old are you?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Uh," He was 16, but he was at a drinking party, which meant if she was a narc or something- "21."

She snorted. "Right. Are you-are yyouu at least like...18? You can tell me." She flung her hand up to her mouth and let her finger fumble across them in a pitiful pantomime of zipped lips. "I can keep a secret."

"Uh, yeahhh..." Roxas mumbled. And just like that, she smacked her face to his and locked lips with him.

Most boys would have enjoyed this moment, but Roxas spazzed and tried to scream rape (he didn't, only because he couldn't because this stranger's tongue had snaked down his throat and rendered him helpless). She tasted like cheap alcohol and cigarettes. When she pulled away, she hiccuped and smiled.

"Why don't we ffind sum'where quiet to-"

"What the hell you doin' with my girl?" A voice thundered from nearby. In a turn of events ripped straight from the romcoms, her (supposed) boyfriend walked up to see the two of them liplocking.

In these types of situations, the people involved can do something stupid, or they can do something incredibly stupid. Roxas, being Roxas, subconsciously chose the incredibly stupid route. He tried telling the truth.

"I didn't do anything!..._She_ kissed _me_."

He wished he could've taken it back after his eyes fell on the hulking mass of muscle the pinkette probably called 'boyfriend.' The guy had on a ridiculous white duster with the sleeves ripped off (likely for the sole sake of advertising his biceps. Roxas really found it to be quite showy, and had his mind not flown to flight or fight instincts in that moment, he might have spent the time judging). Hulk also wore a black skull cap pulled down to his blond brows.

"Look, man-" was all Roxas got out before the bodybuilder ran up, reeled his fist back and swung. The world went dark.

Later (a few minutes past midnight, to be exact), Roxas would find that Axel had been there as well. He would learn this because he would wake up to Axel's badly stifled hyena laughter, and the cooling calm of an ice pack that someone had placed on his soon-to-be black eye.

But that much was a story for day 6.

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**A/N:** So, I've got my theme for day 6. After that, yikes. Who knows? Hope you enjoyed, please drop a review.


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